After saying goodbye, White Hair felt his entire aura soaring without limit.
His expression grew even colder.
He even...
Pulled a mirror from behind his waist.
The biting cold wind blew across his cold mask. Standing on the blade of the sword with his hands behind his back, he took out the mirror with one hand and narcissistically glanced at himself.
However...
The darkness had not granted him eyes capable of seeing at night.
"Hehe."
White Hair casually tossed the mirror away.
It did not matter that he could not see himself.
What mattered was letting his two spectators witness that pose.
His upward momentum had already reached its peak and begun to fall...
White Hair sighed, reached behind himself with his left hand, and gave a light tug.
Bang.
First, the pilot chute fluttered violently. Then a huge yellow parachute opened.
Life was truly as lonely as snow.
White Hair paid no attention to the greatsword, which had already fallen ahead of him.
His faceplate popped open.
He pulled out a cigar that had already been cut from behind his waist, then took out a rather old-fashioned windproof lighter.
Snap!
Wisps of white smoke rose.
His wise eyes looked toward the slope, filled with a smile.
"No need to see me off... Fuck!"
White Hair yanked the cigar away, his eyes nearly popping out.
The two Saint Luo Race members, whose minds had nearly been overwhelmed by rage, both leaped high into the air.
Seraril grabbed Jasper by the feet, swung him through the air, and hurled him fiercely.
Jasper, his eyes bloodshot, shot toward him like a cannonball.
"Fuck!"
"Don't come over here! I'm not into guys, get lost!"
"Get lost!"
White Hair's air of superiority vanished in less than a second. He drew a 10.3mm large-caliber pistol